Wicked Magic by Cheyenne McCray

she waited, Rhiannon looked up from her hands and glanced around the lobby. It was certainly impressive—all marble, mahogany, and glass, with porcelain sculptures of birds in flight. Hard to believe that the congressman with all this wealth and power no longer existed.
    Only no one knew that yet.
    This Fomorii they had tracked down through Sydney’s talent. She was able to divine things by allowing melted wax to drip into a pewter bowl of consecrated water and then could “see” whatever it was she was attempting to visualize.
She always chose wax of different colors and scents appropriate to the situation.
    The ever-so-friendly ( not ) receptionist came through the heavy wood door of Congressman Dentworth’s office and gave Rhiannon a false smile. With her short brown hair and fresh-faced appearance, the woman looked like a soccer mom but had the manners of a real bitch.
    The receptionist examined her long, manicured nails. “You’re up, cookie.”
    Rhiannon forced a fake smile of her own. Just a little flick of her fingers and she could seriously hose the secretary’s computer for a while.
    Instead, Rhiannon rose from her seat in the waiting room as gracefully as she could and tugged down the skirt with one hand. She wobbled in the unfamiliar spike heels as they clicked across the marble floor. She was positive high heels had originally been designed by a male as a torture device for females.
    Cookie Woman held the door open for Rhiannon, then closed it behind her. Rhiannon entered a beautifully appointed office, also of mahogany, marble, and glass, but with thick forest green carpeting. Through a large window, she could see an impressive view of San Francisco’s skyline.
    Rhiannon clutched the stupid little pink purse in her left fist as she approached the blond man who crossed the office, his right hand extended. He had a friendly, easygoing expression. She’d always considered him to be a good congressman. It really sucked that he’d been killed and his body now hosted a power-hungry, butt-ugly demon.
    â€œWelcome, Ms. Smith.” The supposed Congressman Dentworth clasped her hand.
    The moment Rhiannon touched his hand, she felt a rush of bile climb her throat. When he released her, she fought back the urge to turn him into a pile of dirt right there in the office. One good-sized fireball and he’d be toast.
    No killing … no killing … it wouldn’t be as fun as I think it would be …

    No, she would never cross that line.
    But the D’Danann would.
    It was all she could do to smile again, and take the seat in front of the desk while the demon moved into the plush leather office chair on the opposite side. It was obvious the demon had taken over this host body efficiently. From what the witches had gathered from their divination, some of the Fomorii apparently had difficulty assimilating into the world their particular host had occupied, but this one was smooth.
    Fomorii demons normally smelled like rotten fish, but whenever they were in a host body, they simply smelled like the human who had formerly inhabited the body.
    â€œYou are here for …” He rifled through papers on his desktop as he casually glanced at her cleavage. “ … the administrative assistant position.”
    â€œYes.” Rhiannon struggled to keep her voice pleasant.
    While the congressman began to grill her on her qualifications, Rhiannon eased the clasp of the purse open and withdrew a small, clear, sticky patch, keeping it stuck to the end of one finger. She did her best to flub the interview so he’d cut it short, but the bastard’s eyes kept landing on her breasts. Apparently this demon had a thing for women with big boobs.
    When he finally rose to walk her out of the office, Rhiannon stood and let her purse tumble off her lap and onto the floor. It landed with a thunk on the carpet and the contents scattered everywhere. A tube of